Definition1 : avenge2a: to free from allegation or blameb : confirm, substantiate c : to provide justification or defense for : justifyd : to protect from attack or encroachment : defend3 : to maintain a right to

Her fears about the giant cockroaches were vindicated when they started laying eggs inside the White House. They were here to conquer Earth, not to make friends. Each pouch they laid was a large, festering pest that took up half of most rooms. There could be no diplomacy.

How could I have known about the dormant super volcano? Nobody mentioned it... I mean, I know about it now. Apparently they have documentaries and, well... any way, they definitely didn't cover it in school! And I mean, I got good grades, so it's not like I wasn't paying attention...

No, wait, no... that's not important. Look, I didn't mean to blow the thing up. I was fighting The Excruciator, and he was planning on taking over the world. I mean, he was a giant lizard alien thing, with a whole army, and he wasn't playing around. This guy wasn't like Rabbit Prince, you know, stealing stuff and mostly trying to enjoy petty crime. He was the real deal. The big leagues. A proper world conquering alien tyrant. So I had to stop him, right? I had to go all out...

If you saw what he did to people... find some of them! I know... I know most of the people there didn't make it... I wasn't fast enough to save them, but... I'm sure some of the people made it out, right? They'll vindicate me! They saw what The Excruciator was like... he did this thing... ugh, I can't even... I can't even describe it. But it was bad. Really bad. And he was doing it to everyone he caught... even the children.

You didn't see... you didn't... I had to stop him, okay! I had to! And I really didn't know about the volcano. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to blow up the U.S., but at least... at least we're not all conquered right?

"Well, yes. We do allow that much to the prisoner but you need to calm down. Even with all the evidence and the eye witness accounts that are in his favour, you never know what the jury decides. We just have to be patient" the man was trying, trying to make her see that they had done everything in their power so far. It was now up to the system to decide if he would be a free man tomorrow or face thirty years in prison.

"I've been patient for a long time, I want this to end" she croaked and he nodded in sympathy.

"We all do Dorothy, we all do. The Tin Man will go free, don't worry."

Steadfast and VindicatedEveryone expects the best of you, even when it's not your place.You try your best and keep your guard up.But you're still human and it's okay to fail.

Everyone expects the best of you, even when it's not your place.It's not your fault, you can't be blamed.But you're still human and it's okay to fail.Maintain your right to fight, no matter what they say.

It's not your fault, you can't be blamed.You are immovable and strong, like a mountain.Maintain your right to fight, no matter what they say.Never let up and never be put in someone elses place.

You are immovable and strong, like a mountain.Steadfast and VindicatedNever let up and never be put in someone elses place.You try your best and keep your guard up.

Sarah opened the door to the bar, and was surprised at what she saw. She'd been expecting a normal, hole in the wall pub, like many others she'd tried over the last few years. What she found was anything but.

The roof was dark, the wood long stained with layers of soot and generations of smoke. It was supported by intricately carved pillars depicting scenes of frolicking fairies, which were covered in real ivy which climbed through cracks in wooden floor. Round tables were scattered irregularly about, each having five wooden chairs, many of which were occupied by the large crowd. The only lighting was provided by dozens of white wax candles, which filled candelabras on the tables and low hanging chandeliers scattered about, as well as a large fireplace, which burned merrily at one end of the room.

More surprising than the decor were the customers. At first glance they appeared to dressed for some elaborate Halloween party, or perhaps for a cosplay convention of some sort. As Sarah slowly approached the bar, she began to doubt that, as some of the outfits looked to be far too valuable for cosplay, and some of the... creatures didn't appear to be the result of makeup or prosthetics.

The bartender was a muscular man with short, curly brown hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and horns on either side of his handsome face. When she reached an open stool she noticed that the pupils of his eyes were horizontal bars, and he had hairy, reverse kneed goat legs ending in hooves.

"I'd be careful where you sit," he said, his voice a rich baritone. "Your neighbor can be rather edacious and none too discerning about whether his meal is living or sentient."

Sarah paused, examining the hulking figure on the next stool. He was at least eight feet tall, and his build appeared to be composed of layers of muscle atop muscle, all corded around each other. He gave her a nasty grin, revealing stone teeth.

Sarah smiled back, before climbing onto the stool confidently. "I can take care of myself."

The creature growled at her, leaning down to get in her face. Sarah didn't even bat an eyebrow, still keeping her eyes on the bartender.

"I'll take some wine," she said casually.

"Um... if you're certain..."

When the bartender turned around the hulking creature growled at her. "Don't ignore me!"

Sarah slowly slid her gaze to meet his enormous bloodshot eyes. He was close enough that it was far more comfortable to simply look into one eye. "I've finally found a nice place to get a drink, and you're bothering me. Leave."

The figure roared loudly, and the entire bar went silent, turning to face the confrontation. He lunged towards her, mouth open wide in an apparent attempt to bite her head off.

Sarah casually backhanded him in the face. He went flying like a bullet from a gun, slamming through the far wall with a great crash, splinters and bits of board hitting the ground as she turned back to face the stupefied bartender. She took a small sip of her wine and smiled. "A nice vintage."

The hockey team was an edacious bunch, devouring the shrimps at the buffet until none was left for him. In a fit of anger, he tossed some nets over the side of the rails and pulled up his own shrimp, continuing his food feast.

Definition1 : a vessel in which metals or other substances are heated to a very high temperature or 2 : a severe test3 : a place or situation in which concentrated forces interact to cause or influence change or development

On the floor of the hangar pilots and crew from a dozen species ran about, desperately trying to get the hodge podge collection of fighters ready to launch. The fleets of a dozen empires had been crushed by in the invading armada, and with so few capital ships remaining those that had hangar bays had taken on as many assault craft as they could. The U.N.S. Waterloo was the largest remaining capital ship in the human navy, and so was packed to double capacity with alien fighter craft.

"It is difficult to say, Admiral," a wheezing voice answered. "It seems to be a move of desperation, but then, it is indeed that, is it not?"

Admiral Gilani turned her attention to her fellow commander. Admiral Shlazzh was strange looking to human eyes, with six limbs scattered about its trilaterally symmetrical body. It had been difficult to work with it at first, but over time she had come to trust it implicitly.

"True," she said, looking back at the floor, and then beyond, to the triple suns visible through the open hangar. "This battle will be the crucible for our civilizations. Will our cooperation, however slow and hard won prevail? Or will the enemy crush us with their monomaniacal zeal?"

Admiral Shlazzh didn't answer for a long moment. "I have never been very optimistic, but for once... this battle will be everything the unified galaxy can bring to bear. We may still be outnumbered, but we have the will to win this battle. Let us hope that it is enough."

The song rings in her ears, then again, everything rings in her ears at this point. Several days without more than a sip or two of water has a funny way of making the body act. One would think if she truly was a witch, then she would not tolerate this sort of treatment. Logic tends to evade these sort of people.

My momma, your momma, flying on a switch...

Did witches fly? She wondered what that would feel like. To feel the air whipping through her hair as she soared above the trees. Right now, she would give anything for a breeze. The heat had been unbearable for the past few days.

My momma, your momma, witches never cry...

Her tears had stopped some time ago. It wasn't as if she didn't want to, but her body didn't seem capable of producing them anymore. All that was left was the tear stains on her cheeks. Streaked down and sticky with sweat and dirt.

My momma, your momma, witches gonna die!

Death wouldn't be so terrible right now. Sometimes, she thinks she sees a man in black standing just feet away from the pillory. He stares and no one seems to notice him as they walk by. She calls out to him, but he never gets any closer. Forcing her pain to continue on.

He was there today. Just standing in his black robe, face shadowed in his hood. She wasn't sure why she thought he was a man. It seemed natural to refer to him that way. Would today be the day he finally helped her? She would never be free of this punishment. Death was the only way out and she yearned for it. If her throat had any voice left in it, she would have screamed and begged him to take her.

Instead, he just watched.

Even as she managed to find new tears at the sound of the metal near by. The crucible was glowing near by. That was what she imagined hell looked like.

They said they were going to make new chains for her. Ones that would sear down into her bone and brand her for eternity for a crime she didn't understand.

The men ate edaciously then and Lily couldn't blame them. It had been a long journey for them, having hiked all the way from Lagior city to the mansion, having not anticipated the need to have kept more supplies than usual. It had taken the trio three days to reach here but by the end of it, they had all managed to pass the crucible of harsh winter and wolves that roamed the woods. The queen smiled down upon their bravery, vowing to reward them with gold and lands of immense value for their services.

"Laigor welcomes you" her voice resonated around the hall, "let the feast begin". Cheers erupted from every corner as the heavy doors swung open and more food and wine poured in.

The crucible of the marathon was the night-time trek through the woods uphill. To prepare for the race, she had arrived early and tried to get herself used to the environment. Only the toughest of the tough would survive this portion of the marathon. It was with an ominous feeling that they flagged off the marathon, the dark clouds in the sky promising rain. When word arrived that a serial killer had escaped from the nearby prison, she knew that it would be the run of her life.

When she walked in wearing an elaborate red dress all eyes turned to her briefly. She ignored the attention, gaze sweeping the room imperiously as she took in the revelers, looking for her target. Finally she saw her, and a smirk crossed her face as she crossed the room.

"My lady," one of the men in the crowd said he tried to stop her. She simply ignored him, walking around the man as she sought her target.

"L-lady Aignel?" the woman said, blushing prettily. "How are you this evening?"

"Better, now that I have found you," she said. "I had thought that we would meet outside, Jessica."

"S-sorry," Jessica said, almost dropping the champaign flute she held in her hand. "I got nervous..."

"'Nothing serious' does not mean 'nothing at all', my sweet," she said, reaching out a gentle hand to caress the woman's face. "I thought I was very specific about how I would respond to any... gauche actions towards your person."

"I don't want to get anyone in trouble," Jessica said, leaning slightly into the touch.

Lady Aignel smiled slightly, more a bowing of her red painted lips than a revealing of teeth. "Oh, my sweet, you don't need to worry about such things... if they've troubled you then they deserve everything they'll get... besides, such disrespect against me and mine is not something I can countenance."

"How about we dance," Jessica suggested, trying to change the subject.

"I will allow your distraction just this once, but only because I have so looked forward to dancing with you, my dear," Lady Aignel said as she led Jessica onto the dance floor, the crowd parting for them and giving plenty of space. The moment they were in position the quartet immediately began a waltz. "Ah, this is a lovely tune to dance away the night with someone so beautiful."

Jessica blushed again. "You know, you really don't have to do so much to impress me. I know you're rich, and powerful... you don't have to flaunt it so much. And I mean... you are gorgeous..."

"I am perhaps a touch immodest," Lady Aignel acknowledged. "Centuries of arrogance is not so easily put aside, I suppose. I have, unfortunately, had to put aside my vanity; as sweet as it is for you to call me beautiful, I know that you are merely flattering me."

"I may not have seen a mirror in the many centuries since I died, but I do not need to. I can touch my own face and know, and even if not for that, I know what comes of vampires who have passed a half millennia. Our beast shows far too fiercely to ever be called lovely, no matter how many heads I once turned."

Jessica stared down at her vampire lover. While her presence filled the room, she was actually quite short, not quite breaking five feet. Leaning forward, she pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, and then again to her sloped forehead, her deeply set eyes, her prominent cheekbones and even her sunken chiropteran nose. She paused for a long kiss to her lips, rubbing her tongue carefully against the pointed maw of fangs, before kissing along one sunken cheek to press kisses against one long, pointed ear.

When Jessica finally pulled back she smiled gently, pulling out a handkerchief to brush away the bloody tears from the vampires face. "You're beautiful to me."

Ooh death. Whooooah death. Won't you spare me over ‘til a another year?

After a while, it was only the song her mother used to sing that rang in her head. Her father had been terribly ill that winter and they weren't sure he was going to make it. She would sit and sing that song every night while he rested in bed. They had both been so scared that he wouldn't pull through. So many had died that winter. It was scary to think that they would be alone without her father. What would the two of them do without him?

Well what is this that I cant see, With ice cold hands taking hold of me

Her mother's soft voice floated through her head as the icy touch gripped her seared ankles. The treatment was one unheard of before. Supposedly a way to bind a witch even in death. So that her soul wouldn't even get the satisfaction of Hell. To doom her for eternity to sit in darkness. Alone and scared. It had hurt beyond what words could describe at first. But then her mother's song came to mind and it felt like she was almost floating. A shiver ran up her spine as the icy touch soothed the pain away more.

Well I am death none can excel, I'll open the door to heaven or hell, Whoa death someone would pray, Could you wait to call me another day

Father had survived the winter and went on to live many more. It was one of the things held against her during the trial. They thought she had witchcraft to spare his life. No one believed that he could have recovered on his own or that God had truly saved him. Right now, she hoped she wouldn't be spared. She wanted so much for the torment to end.

The children prayed the preacher preached, Time and mercy is out of your reach, I'll fix your feet so you can't walk, I'll lock your jaw so you can't talk

Time meant nothing anymore. She would never walk again and her throat would never speak again. Her body didn't feel like hers anymore. They had stolen it from her in their accusations. They said their prayers as they searched her body for witch marks. They claimed her a whore, even though she had never bedded a man. They left her with nothing.

I'll close your eyes so you cant see, This very hour come and go with me, Death I come to take the soul, Leave the body and leave it cold

To close her eyes and just let go. She knew her soul. She knew she wasn't guilty. It didn't matter what gauche chains they seared into her flesh and bone. Death would know where she belonged.

To drop the flesh up off the frame, Dirt and worm both have a claim

He reached out and touched her cheek. The cold fingers wiping away the tear stains and smoothing her dirty hair from her face. His dark eyes were filled with pity as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. She knew it was time. To return to the earth and become one with it.

Ooh death, Whooooah death, Won't you spare me over ‘til a another year?

She wouldn't have to wait another year...

Song is O Death by Ralph Stanley. Story continued from crucible for Flower.

"The name's Lana. Nice to meet ya." Lana held her hand out to the lord of the estate. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow, taking in this girl from another time period with her gauche mannerisms. He remained standing there, leaving her with a hand hanging abandoned in between them. She slowly lowered her hand to her side, looking around awkwardly. "Uh... Right." She cleared her throat, fingering the sleeve of her jean jacket.

"Look, I was told you could get me home? I find it kinda weird that someone from the 16th century would know how to do that, but it's already pretty damn weird that I travelled through time. I've sort of given up on deciding what is and isn't logical at this point." She chattered on nervously, and perhaps would have continued if not for the manservant at her side clearing his throat.

"What? Am I supposed to shut up?" Lana blurted out. The manservant looked at her with a baffled expression and she shrugged her shoulders. "I'm taking that as a yes."

The pain was gone, but her body felt heavy. The damage done to her ankles by the crudely made chains that had been burned into her body was gone. The dirt and grime of the weeks spent in the stocks was gone. She felt as if she did on any other day, except heavier. Much heavier. She sat up slowly, pushing hard on her arms to raise the new weight. It was difficult, but not painful.

Her eyes scanned the room, if it could be called that. It was more of an open, black void. The ground below her was some kind of metal and smooth. Slowly, she crawled towards the edge and a gush of wind shooting up from the side caused her to fall back out of fear. Looking up, she saw that the four corners of the metal were lashed to strong looking chains that went up to meet together above the center of the square. They held onto a bar, that lead to a center post that was larger than any kind of tree trunk she had ever seen in her life. She could, just barely, see that it held a second bar and square of metal. It was held high above her platform though.

Was she dead? She remember the man in black. It was the last thing she remembered. She was a good girl. She said her prayers every day and believed she would go to heaven. But this was nothing like what she imagined, "Hello?"

"Please stand in the center," the voice was smooth and soft, but the surprise at hearing it made her jump a little.

She couldn't see source of the voice, "H-hello? Who is there?"

"Please stand in the center," the voice was a little more commanding and rather than being given a change to follow, she felt herself yanked back to the center. A yelp escaped from her throat as she was dragged up to her feet, "Stand still to be weighed."

Terrified, began looking around frantically, "Where are you?!"

He appeared, floating, off the edge of the platform. The man in black. The one she knew to be Death, "Your kind always like to see. Now stand still, Girl."

"W-w-what's happening to me?"

"You are the weight of the good you have represent in your life. Not the good you have done because you were required, but the good you wished to do because of the goodness of your heart. It is easy to follow the command of your God, but it is hard to believe in what you are doing. You will be judged based on the goodness of your heart."

She stared at him, no less terrified, "But...But I wasn't a witch. I didn't deserve to die that way!"

"The nature of your death does not determine the judgement of your soul. The good die unjustly and the evil grow old. It is not fare, but it is the nature of things. You are not judged by the innocence of your death. You are judged by the goodness of your soul."

It was hard to believe what was going on. Was this all some elaborate dream? Was she still alive and they were just waiting for her to wake to punish her more? No. She was sure she had died. She had felt it. The calmness she had seen on the faces of those who had died. She had felt that, "I'm a good person!"

"We shall see..." the scale tared and she nearly fell as the other side evened out to her own. She felt the weight lift off her body. She felt light as a feather. But a new feeling was left in her heart.

"Is this the right amount?" Charles asked, tossing the small container up and down casually in one hand.

"It had better work," Mara said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "We paid you... extensively, to get this. Ivette died getting us past the other traps... now you'd better deliver."

"Well, I'm the best," Charles said without a trace of modesty. "That just means if it's possible I'll get it done. No one asked if it's possible."

Mara ground her teeth, reaching one hand towards her sword. "Ivette was a very good friend of mine... if this doesn't work I'm going to be very displeased."

Charles looked serious for a moment. "Fine, fine. Actually, if this doesn't work I doubt any of us will be alive to worry about it."

"Why's that?" Sven rumbled suspiciously.

"Well, this last trap... it's not some simple, crude mechanism," Charles said, gesturing to the large amphora sitting on the pedestal. "You see, we want the object inside the fancy container, right? But the thing is, that relic... it changes size all the time. So they couldn't just use a change in weight to know if someone picked it up, oh no. No, they have the thing 'specially setup to detect the weight of the container and if that changes at all... boom! A tare for a tare, so to speak. And if we trip it, we get torn to pieces."

"So that's why you've got the jar of sand?" Mara asked.

"Exectamudno," Charles said, pouring out a small amount. "The jar's heavy, but not as much as that eyesore. So I've gotta guess how much that thing weighs without touching it, then swap them out without tripping the trap. So... give me some silence. I think that's the right amount of sand... oops."

Definition1 : to give a recommendation about what should be done : to give advice to2 : caution, warn3 : to give information or notice to : inform4 : to talk with someone in order to decide what should be done : consult